


Nothing Can Come Between

by HamPalpert



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Exhibitionism, Everyone is an idiot, Masturbation, Porn Watching, Semi-Ambiguous Ending, Uni AU, Wanker's Day, but especially Harry, flatmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 09:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18990268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamPalpert/pseuds/HamPalpert
Summary: Louis comes over for film night, and Harry keeps his hands to himself.  Literally.  But what's supposed to be a secret self-love session quickly spirals out of control.





	Nothing Can Come Between

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the Wanker’s Day Fic Fest. It’s a bit of a last minute mess!
> 
> This work is painfully unbeta'd due to the time crunch! For (spoilery) information about the semi-ambiguous ending, see the end notes.
> 
> Title from /You and I/ by One Direction

Harry compulsively fluffs the pillows on the sofa for the third time, then scoffs as he sees the throw blanket he’d just folded already balled up in the corner of the arm chair.  There hasn’t even been anyone in the room in the last few minutes, so unless there’s a poltergeist in the flat, someone’s pranking him. Must’ve been when he went to check on the biscuits in the oven.

“Relax, H,” Niall chides, flopping onto the sofa in his usual closest-to-the-television spot.  “It’s just a film night. We do this all the time.”

Harry huffs.  “It’s not the same.  Louis’s coming.”

Niall belches.  “Like he doesn’t already know you stuff your socks down the cushions cuz you’re too lazy to put ‘em in the hamper.”

Harry flushes, then subtly sticks his hand down the back of the sofa for the socks he’d stashed there last night after work.  And the ones from the day before.

He’s just put his collection in the hamper in his bedroom when there’s a loud knock on the flat door.

Shit.  He thought he had more time.  Quickly, he slams the door of his room and strips out of his basketball shorts, kicking them into the hamper, and nearly decapitates himself removing his hooded sweatshirt. Then he squeezes himself into his best skinny jeans and a tight, sheer t-shirt.  He fucks with his hair a bit, then determines it’s beyond saving.

He chooses the perfect time to re-emerge.  The rest of the lads, minus Zayn, are already seated in the lounge, and Louis’s got a perfect vantage point from his spot on the sofa next to Liam. When Louis looks up, his mouth hangs open in surprise, half-eaten crisp nearly falling into his lap.  Harry can hardly keep from preening when Louis’s eyes trail from top to toe, lingering on his soft bulge.

“Hi, Lou.”

Louis looks away.  “Hey, Harry. Alright?”

Before Harry can answer, Zayn sidles past him to join the other lads in the lounge.  “Something’s burning,” he says casually.

“Oh, fuck!”

He bolts to the kitchen and opens the oven door, waving away the smoke with an oven glove.  The biscuits are beyond saving.  Grumbling, Harry cracks open a window to let the cold March breeze clear the burning smell, then dumps the charred biscuits into the bin.  Louis’d raved about them the last time he’d had them, and Harry was looking forward to winning him over with another taste today.

By the time he re-enters the lounge, they’ve started the film without him.  Liam, Louis, and Zayn are squeezed into the three-seater sofa, and Niall's commandeered the love seat for only himself, forcing Harry to take a lonely seat in the armchair with the worst view of the television.  He’s almost directly across from Louis though, so he’s not entirely gutted.

“Had to bin the biscuits,” Harry says regretfully.  

Niall shrugs.  “We’ve got crisps.”

The others don’t even acknowledge him, eyes on the television.  Everyone’s been a bit frosty to him lately, ever since they’ve learned about what’s going on with Louis.  Usually Niall and Liam do their best to keep things civil, but Zayn doesn’t even try. He’s so protective of his best mate, and he’d made it clear to Harry that he doesn’t think he deserves Louis.

Speaking of Louis, he looks incredible today.  Despite the freezing weather, he’s wearing cutoff gray sweat shorts, the ones that cling so nicely to his bum but are loose enough to grant Harry a little peek at his downy inner thighs.  His legs are spread out at the knees, invading both Liam and Zayn’s personal space on either side of him, and his bare feet rest on the coffee table in front of him. Harry wouldn’t consider himself a foot fetishist by any means, but he’d definitely show a little love to Louis’s delicate, well-maintained feet if he’d let him.  

He’s also wearing Harry’s favorite tank, the faded maroon one with the low-cut armpit holes.  He’s got a hoodie layered over top, but it doesn’t stop his left nipple from poking out every time he reaches into Liam’s lap for a crisp.  They’re so small and pert, and they’re begging for Harry to give them a little suckle.

Harry rearranges himself in the chair, subtly adjusting himself.  Just as he gets his hand on his dick to tuck it to the side, Louis makes eye contact with him.  He’s all blue eyes and sharp cheekbones and wispy hair, long enough now to be held back by a headband.  Harry wants to kiss his widow’s peak. His dick goes from interested to desperate.

Harry clears his throat.  “I’m uh– not feeling well, actually.  Headache. I’m gonna go, erm. Lie down for a bit.”

They’re all looking at him now, various shades of disbelief on each of their faces.  Great, the perfect time to walk away, when he’s got an obvious hard-on. Standing up, he fiddles with the collar of his shirt to direct their attention away from the painful bulge in his jeans as he turns away and back down the hall to his bedroom.

He double checks that he’s locked the door before struggling out of his trousers.  They’re tight on any other day, but it’s a bit more painful to work them over an erection.  Once his trousers are safely kicked to the floor, Harry heads straight for his laptop. He’s got just the video for his mood.    

He sets the computer between his spread knees and leans back against the pillows, palming himself through his pants.  He finds the video he’s looking for, hidden in a folder labeled ‘English paper research’, and presses play.

It’s his favorite of his small personal collection, and never fails to get him off quickly.  The lighting isn’t very good, because it was shot in the evening with only a desk lamp, but, in Harry’s opinion, it romanticizes the crudeness of the sex.  He’s never really cared for lube when he’s masturbating, preferring the drag of skin on skin, and the easy clean-up. He pulls his cock out of the flap of his pants and sighs in relief at his first real pump.  He knows he won’t last long. He imbibes in self-loving quite often, (and extremely frequently as of late), but the object of his fantasies is just mere feet away from him, and in fact, is still in the same flat.  The fact that he’s going to do this at all with Louis so close spurs him on a bit more, and he groans as he pumps himself even faster, using his other hand to tug gently at his balls.

He’s had the forethought to put the volume of his video on mute, because the walls of the flat are thin, as Liam has vocally complained many times.  Luckily for him, too, because just as he’s beginning to feel the first tingles of approaching release, there’s a knock at his door.

“Harry?” Louis says from the other side.  “Everything alright?”

Harry freezes in shock, squeezing his dick a bit too tight–even for him– out of instinct.

“Yeah, fine,” he calls back, voice cracking.  “Just a stomach ache.”

There’s a pause, then Louis says, “You said it was a headache before.”

Harry muffles a groan, because Louis is right on the other side of the door, and Harry’s dick is leaking, and he’s watching the world’s best rim job.  On its own accord, his hand starts stroking again.

“If this is about what Zayn was saying,” Louis continues,  “he was only trying to rile you up. It’s nothing serious.”

Harry frowns, even as he writhes.  He hasn’t got a fucking clue what Louis’s talking about.  “What?”

“The date.”

“What?” Harry yelps.  This is news to him. What date?  Who? Is someone _dating_ Louis? 

Louis sighs.  “Look, this conversation is hard enough through a door. The lads are definitely listening in.  Can I just come in?” The doorknob rattles.

“No!” Harry cries, legs jerking in panic.  Somehow, in the cruelest of cruel moments, his wayward knee manages to knock the video off mute, and a loud moan fills the room.

“Are you _with_ someone?” Louis asks sharply, from the other side of the door.

“No!” Harry hurries to say.  “No, I-“ He’s interrupted by a loud cry of pleasure and a sharp smack.

“Are you watching _porn?”_ Louis demands, just as the Louis on Harry's screen wails, _“Oh, Harry!”_

Harry could die from embarrassment and horniness right here and now.  On the other side of the door, present day Louis stands in shocked silence.  Meanwhile, past Louis is filling the silence with his moans of pleasure as he writhes on the bed, legs spread at the knees whilst past Harry eats him out with fervor.

Harry knows what’s coming (literally and figuratively).  It’s the reason this video is his favorite in their personal collection.  On screen, Louis is suddenly erupting all over himself, thick white streaks hitting his stomach and chest in spurt after spurt.

Harry can’t help it.  He’s been so hard for so long, and watching Louis get off always does it for him- coupled with real life Louis being aware of what he’s up to?  He comes. Hard. Just as the door swings open, with Louis on the other side, holding a straightened-out paperclip in his hand. His face changes from triumphant to slack jawed in the span of three seconds.  His eyes trail to Harry, still shivering in post-orgasm haze with a handful of come, to the computer screen beside him, where video Harry is enthusiastically about to enjoy his own release, all over Louis.

Guiltily, his eyes meet Louis’s, who stares back at him, defiant.

Harry can sense what Louis’s about to do in the split second before he does it.  Louis rushes into the room and wrestles the laptop away from Harry’s weak, one-handed grip, crowing triumphantly once he’s got it clutched in his arms.  

“No!” Harry wails.  “I’ve got a paper due in three days!”

“Shoulda thought of that before I caught you wanking to our home videos!”  Louis calls, racing out of the room and slamming the door behind himself.

Harry can only sit there, dumbfounded, soft dick still out, with one dirty, sticky hand.  Groaning, he falls back onto the bed. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t dare come out of his room to face the lads, who almost certainly have heard everything.  That, and the devastation over undoubtedly ruining things permanently with Louis, keeps him bedridden in misery for the rest of the night.

He tosses and turns all night, unable to do much more than lie there in the dark in a panic over what he’s done.  He doesn’t even have his laptop to stream Netflix to distract himself.

He falls asleep sometime round three in the morning, and when his alarm for his nine o’clock class a few hours later, he turns it off and rolls over without a second thought.  When he finally manages to rouse himself for the day, his tiny bedroom is flooded with late morning light, and he’s definitely missed both of his morning lectures. When he reaches for his phone to confirm, he sits up in shock.  There’s a WhatsApp message waiting for him from Louis.

_Meet me in the Union at 1300_

Harry bolts out of bed, because it’s already 12:15, and it’s a twenty minute walk.  He pulls on the first outfit he can find, which turns out to be the clothes from yesterday, just where he’d kicked them to the foot of the bed the night before.  He helps himself to one of Liam’s protein bars as he tugs on a knit cap and zips his jacket. He’d like to take his time to look good, but he figures looking slovenly might win him some sympathy points.

The walk is long, cold, and miserable, and Harry spends it practicing things he wants to say.  He’s got so much groveling to do, but Louis’s thwarted him at every turn. He kicks himself, for the dozenth time since the incident last night, for being unable to keep it in his pants long enough for Louis to come to him to talk things through.  He can't get the date with someone else that Louis had mentioned out of his head.

The student union is bustling at this time of day.  Harry climbs the stairs to the second floor, where the cafe is located.  Louis always loved to get a tea there before lectures. Sure enough, Louis is already seated in a booth, a beacon in his bright blue beanie.  He’s got a cuppa and Harry’s laptop in front of him.

Louis pretends to be immersed in his phone until Harry is standing in front of him.  Harry knows he’s faking it, because he’s fidgeting with the fringe sticking out of his cap, like he always does when he’s feeling insecure.

Harry gingerly sits down in the seat across from him, clearing his throat nervously.  They haven’t been alone together in a month. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Louis says back, pocketing his phone.

They sit in awkward silence for a few painful seconds.

“Uh, thanks for unblocking me on WhatsApp,” Harry says finally.

Louis shrugs, eyes on the table.  “Needed some way to get in touch.”

It had felt a bit more meaningful than that to Harry, when he’d gotten the alert.  “You coulda told one of the lads to let me know.”

Louis snorts.  “They already hate you.  Didn’t want to add fuel to the fire by telling them the reason.”

Harry’s shoulders fall in relief, then shoot back up again in alarm.  “Wait, Liam and Niall hate me?”

Louis shrugs again, lips quirked in a half smile.  “Don’t think they’re capable of hate. But they’re not your biggest fans at the moment.”  Neither of them mention Zayn. They both know where he stands in all this.

Harry nods.  He gets it, he does.  It doesn’t stop him from holding a shred of resentment for the fact that he was flatmates with all three of them months before any of them had even met Louis.

Harry sighs.  “Thanks for not telling them, I guess. Would’ve thought they’d overheard.”

“Oh, they definitely did,” Louis agrees.  “I just didn’t stick around to let them question me about it.”

They fall into another, slightly-less-uncomfortable silence at that.

“Lou,” Harry begins finally, after a five second internal pep talk.  “Can we talk about us, please?”

Louis’s face goes stony.  “No. I didn’t come here to fucking stroll down memory lane.  I only wanted to return your laptop after I deleted everything.”

“You deleted them?” Harry gasps. “They’re my property!”

“Yeah, but I’m in them,” Louis counters hotly.  “And- and I no longer give you consent to watch me in them!”

“Well, you certainly consented when we made them!  You’re the one who made me buy the special iPhone tripod… thingy!”

“I’m sorry for not wanting to watch us from the knees down like in the first one!”

They glare at one another from across the booth, but Louis’s mouth twitches, and then suddenly they’re snorting in laughter despite themselves, because their first failed sex tape was actually pretty hilarious.  It still got the job done, for Harry.  Anything involving Louis usually does.

“Seriously though,” Louis says, face gone cold, and their little moment is ruined.  “You must get why it’s really fucking inappropriate.”

Harry flushes.  It certainly wasn’t his best decision.  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that with you right in the other room, with all our friends.  It’s just, you looked so good, and I’ve missed you so much.“ He clears his throat, voice scratchy with emotion.

Louis stares at him, eyes wide and incredulous.  “Harry, you dumped me. At your birthday dinner. In public!”

Harry winces.  “I know, but if you’d just-“

“Right after I told you I loved you for the first time!”

Harry huffs.  It sounds so, so terrible when Louis puts it that way.  “If you’d have let me explain and not rushed off-“

Louis laughs bitterly.  “You’d just told me you thought we should be fucking other people!  Crying in public isn’t exactly my idea of a good time, mate.”

Harry tears a hand through his hair.  “I didn’t _want_ to break up with you!  It’s just that everyone in my life’s been telling me that first loves never last, and that we’ll regret it if we don’t take advantage of our uni years!  And every single day we were together since I met you just got better and better. Thinking about losing you was so fucking painful that I wanted to rip the bandage off before it got too serious and my heart got broken.”

Louis’s eyes flash.  “Who the fuck’s been telling you it wouldn’t work out?”

Harry shrugs, averting his eyes.  “My mates back home. My sister, even.  And, uh, Liam said something about not regretting breaking up with Danielle.”

Louis sighs, dragging his hands down his face.  “He told me you were asking him about that. He thought maybe it meant something, but _stupid_ me didn’t believe him.”  He shakes his head ruefully, then snorts derisively.  “So you dumped me because your mates told you to? Because surely we’d break up eventually?”

“It was stupid,” Harry attests.  “I was regretting it even as I was saying it.”

“And why would anyone even start dating someone if they already knew it wasn’t going to work out?” Louis continues, voice rising.  “What would be the point?”

Harry shrugs.  He’d never understood it either, but he can’t say the statistics don’t back them up.  “But– think about it. Can you name anyone who’s still with the first person they fell in love with?  Anyone at all?”

Louis sighs, defeated.  “Harry, do you think I don’t know the odds?  Given everything my mates have gone through, what my _mum_ has gone through?  I just–” he shrugs, sniffling feebly.  “I just really thought we’d be the lucky ones.”

“I thought that too!” Harry exclaims, blinking away his misty eyes.  “I knew everything they were saying was bollocks. I was just too fucking stupid to realize it until after I ruined everything.”  

“I wish you’d spoken to me about it,” Louis says.  “If you had, I’d’ve told you you were being a knob, and that I thought we could’ve made it.”

“I’ve been trying to speak to you about it,” Harry insists.  They’re both swiping at their eyes with their jumper sleeves by now.  “But you blocked my number and quit coming round. And Zayn yells at me every time I try to get him to pass along a message.”  

Louis laughs a little, even through his tears.  “Sorry about that. He’s a bit of a guard dog.”

“I sent you flowers.  On Valentine’s Day. Did you get them?”  It had just been a simple rose with a bit of baby’s breath in a vase, because he’s on a student worker’s budget.

Louis drops his gaze guiltily, nodding.  “I, ehm, told Charlie they were for him.”

Harry pulls a face.  “Who would send that cunt flowers?”  Charlie, one of Louis’s four dorm mates in student housing, is the single most unpleasant person Harry’s had the displeasure of meeting.

Louis grins mischievously, an expression Harry didn’t know how much he missed until he sees it just now.  

“I’ve got him digging through his mail searching for messages from his secret admirer now.  Convinced him the bird was obviously attracted to his superior intelligence, so she’s probably sending him secret clues to reveal her identity.”

That is pretty funny, actually, even if it does hurt that his gift was rejected.  “Well, I’m glad you got some enjoyment out of them.”

Louis nods, smile fading.  He takes a sip of his long-forgotten tea, then grimaces.  It’s definitely gone cold by now.

“Lou,” Harry says.  His hand flutters uselessly on the table as he barely restrains himself from reaching across it for Louis’s.  “I meant what I said. I never wanted to break up. It was a stupid mistake. And I miss you so fucking much I can hardly stand it.”

Louis raises one eyebrow, dubious.  “Are you sure you miss me, or do you just miss the-” he taps the top of Harry’s laptop in lieu of finishing his question.

Harry shakes his head vigorously.  “It’s not about the sex! I mean, obviously I miss that, as, uh, you saw.  But I miss the way you make everyone in the room laugh, and how you’re cheeky, but never mean to people who don’t deserve it.  And I miss your god awful eggs-“ Louis scoffs in mock offense. “-and the way you stick your icicle feet under my legs when we’re asleep.  And the way you make everything seem like an adventure, even if it’s a bus ride to the cinema.”

“Alright, alright.”  Louis fidgets with the bottom of his jumper, the curve of his neck barely concealing his reluctant smile.  “You don’t have to go on and on.”

“I would,” Harry insists. “I love everything about you.”

Louis’s smile morphs into something pained.  It isn’t quite the same as ‘I love you’, but surely he’d thought he’d hear those words from Harry would be under different circumstances.  If Harry gets the chance, he’s going to make the first time he says them for real count for something.

“Lou.” This time Harry doesn’t resist the urge to reach out for Louis’s hand.  His fingers wrap around Louis’s wrist, and Louis doesn’t pull away. “Can we please try again?”

Louis ponders this for a long time, lower lip worried between his teeth.  His gaze, so very blue, is unnerving in its intensity, but Harry doesn’t dare look away.

“Maybe,” he says finally.  “It’s been… a really rough few weeks.  And I don’t much fancy getting my heart broken again.”

“You won’t,” Harry vows.  “Let me take you out this weekend.”  A flash of uncertainty crosses Louis’s face, and Harry hurries to lower the stakes.  “It can be casual. A game of pool at the pub, even. We could invite the lads.”

Louis shakes his head.  “No, it’s… just, this bloke from my theatre class asked me to go out with him this weekend.”

Harry’s heart drops into his stomach.  He releases Louis’s wrist. “Oh. I thought– you said that Zayn was just taking the piss last night.”

Louis shakes his head, lips thin. “He shouldn’t have told you like that.  Little did he know you were too busy thinking with your cock to listen.”

“Sorry.”  Harry frowns down at his hands, embarrassed and devastated.  “What did you say?”

“I haven’t given him an answer yet,” Louis says.  “Zayn wants me to say yes, but I didn’t feel ready.  But I think I’ll tell him that I’m thinking of working it out with my ex, but that it’s complicated.  And maybe if that ex fucks it up again, then he’ll have his chance.”

If his heart could get whiplash from such a sudden swing in emotions, Harry would be dead.  Twelve hours ago he wouldn’t have dreamed that being caught wanking to porn he'd made with his ex-boyfriend,  _by_ his ex-boyfriend, would have led to getting a second chance with said ex and love of his life.

Harry grins.  “Well, I’ll make sure that he never gets one.”  

Louis smiles tentatively back.  “You do that.” His eyes dart over Harry’s head.  “Shit. I’m late for my one-act rehearsal.” He pushes Harry’s forgotten laptop toward him as he climbs out of the booth.  “I didn’t delete them, by the way.”

Harry stares up at him in shock.  “Really?”

Louis sniffs, shrugging his shoulders.  “Figured it’d make you a lot more miserable watching them, knowing you’d never get this in real life again.”  He gestures to his body, still looking like a compact, curvy snack even in his cold weather gear.

Harry has to laugh, because it’s such a Louis thing to do.  And it’s also painfully true.

“I’ll call you, yeah?” Harry confirms, as Louis zips his coat to his chin and rearranges his beanie.

“Yeah,”  Louis says, and he smiles again.  Harry’s missed the crinkles by his eyes.  “Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Harry watches him walk away until he disappears into the crowd, unable to keep the goofy grin from his face.  Then he opens his laptop. He’s got that paper due in a few days, but he’d rather google romantic date spots.  They can get back to where they were before, he just knows it.

When the screen wakes up, Harry yelps in surprise and slams the computer closed again.

Louis’s changed his desktop background to a close-up, high-definition still of Harry’s arsehole.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For my ambiguous ending haters: This is (supposed to be) one story in a two-part series, in which there is an inevitable happy ending. (I make no promises on when to expect the second part, however. As it is, this is a standalone fic.)
> 
> [The fic post](https://ham-palpert.tumblr.com/post/185209120486/nothing-can-come-between-by-hampalpert-louis-comes)


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